The Devil Wears Housecoats
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Silly little AU fic: Arlene moves in with House and Cuddy for the longest week of House's life.


"Thought this might be a nice start to your day," Cuddy said with a smile, placing a tray in front of House.

It was his favorite, pumpkin waffles and maple syrup, with coffee, just the way he liked it (strong, black, with three sugars.)  
But instead of dousing the waffles with syrup and digging in, House raised an accusatory eyebrow in her direction.

"Okay, what did you do?" he said.

"What?" Cuddy said.

"Yesterday, you gave me a blow job under my desk."

"I've done that before. . ." Cuddy said, guiltily.

"Yes. Precisely three times in the 13 months we've been dating. Once, on my birthday. Once, on Valentine's Day. And yesterday. Yesterday was a Tuesday."

"If you'd rather I didn't. . ."

"I didn't say that!" House said quickly (there is no turn-on quite the like the turn-on of the Dean of Medicine on her knees pleasuring you as the hospital _she runs_ innocently carries on around you). "I'm just saying. First the mid day, um, gift. Now this. You even put powered sugar on these waffles. So what gives?"

Cuddy scratched her head and, although she was fully dressed for work—pencil skirt, Louboutin heels, red blouse—slid onto the bed beside him, her legs crossed, her head propped against the headboard.

"Okay, just hear me out before you respond. . ." she said.

"I can't imagine a worse opening gambit," House said.

"You see, my mother is having new floors put in her house and needs to a place to stay."

"I was wrong," House said.

Cuddy gave him a cajoling look.

"It would just be for a week, House!"

"I thought Julia was her favorite daughter. This seems an excellent time to cash in on that."

"Julia's at Disney World with the kids. . . And she's not mom's favorite!"

House started to respond, then thought better of it.

"We'll put her up at the Hilton. I'll spring for a suite," he said.

"Why should my mother stay at a hotel when her daughter has more than enough room in her house?"

"Because this is the worst idea in the history of ideas. And yes, I'm including New Coke. The last time your mother and I hung out, I almost killed her. The time before that, I drugged her. Do you see a pattern here?"

"Mom likes you," Cuddy said.

"Switch the word 'like' to 'hate' and that sentence will be accurate."

Cuddy sighed.

"Look House, if you and I are going to move forward with this relationship. . ."

"_If_?_"_

"_Since_ you and I are moving forward with this relationship," Cuddy corrected, putting her hand on his. "You need to figure out a way to co-exist with my mother."

"But a whole week?" House said, already beginning to sense that he was losing the fight. "That's not just courting danger, it's going steady with it."

"It would mean a lot to me," she said, giving an irresistible smile.

_Oh, shit._

"Fine," he grumbled. "But when this whole thing ends in blood and tears and your mother pelting me with Geritol tablets, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I love you!" Cuddy said merrily, hugging him. "Now eat your waffles before they get cold."  
######

A few days later, House got a far less pleasant awakening. A very loud and grating sound in his ears. At first, he thought it was some of machinery, like a jackhammer or a drill.

Then he realized it was a woman's voice.

"Are you _still _asleep?" the voice was saying.

He groaned and, curling up in a ball, turned away from the offending sound.

"Go away," he said.

"It's 10 am on a weekday! A grown man shouldn't still be in bed."

"5 more minutes," he said.

"Now!"

And Arlene Cuddy actually pulled the covers off him, mom-style.

House yanked the covers back from her.

"Are you crazy?" he said. "I could've been naked!" He was, in fact, shirtless with light blue pajama bottoms.

"Honey, I'm 72 years old. I've seen more naked men than Michelangelo."

"Not an image I'd like to have stuck in my head all day," House said.

She tried to yank the covers again, and for a second, they actually had a little tussle—with Arlene pulling the covers one way, and House pulling them the other.

Finally, House gave the sheets such a forceful yank, it was clear he wasn't going to let her win.

"Get dressed," Arlene conceded. "I'll meet you in the kitchen. I made coffee."

#####

Half an hour later, he stumbled into the kitchen, scratching his beard.

He poured a mug of coffee from the pot and limped to the cupboard to get some sugar.

"Where's the sugar?" he asked.

"I threw it out," Arlene replied.

"That's funny. I could swear I just heard you say you threw the sugar out."

"Rachel shouldn't be eating so much refined sugar," Arlene said.

"It's not cocaine, Arlene. It's sugar. And besides, it's not for her. She takes her coffee black."

Arlene stared at him, aghast.

He winked: "Just kidding, mom."

He frowned, and took a sip of his sugarless coffee, then, with great effort, forced himself to swallow it.

"This tastes like dish water!" he said. "What happened to my pre-sets on the coffee pot?"

"I tried to make a pot of that stuff. It was thick as tar. So I made it the way I like it."

House looked down at the murky brown liquid in his cup.

"You win, Arlene. The crappy coffee in the hospital is actually preferable to the French roast made on my $200 coffee pot. Good work!"

He headed toward the door, but just as he was about to leave, the phone rang.

House looked over at Arlene, who was sitting by the phone. She was reading the newspaper. It was clear she had no intention of answering it.

He rolled his eyes and limped back over, pressed the speakerphone.

"Y'allo," he said, in a "I'm in a rush" sort of way.

"Is Lisa there?" a woman's voice said.

"Nope. Try her cell," House said, about to hang up.

"Wait!" the woman said. "I don't have that number. Do you happen to know if Rachel was still planning on coming to Amelia's playdate after school today?"

"No idea," House said. "Bye!"

"Wait!" the woman repeated. "Do you know if Rachel has any food allergies?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, can you at least give me Lisa's cell phone number?"

"Yes, it's 1-800-CALL INFORMATION," House said.

And he hung up.

Arlene Cuddy was glaring at him.

"You're a very rude man, you know that?" she said.

"So they say. . .Especially when I get awakened by mean old ladies who steal my covers and my sugar and make inedible coffee."

"Poor you. What a tragic life you lead," Arlene said.

#####

"Alone at last," House said to Cuddy that night in bed, slipping his hand under her nightie.

They had just finished a seemingly interminable dinner where Arlene complained about everything from Cuddy's cooking to House's lack of small talk skills. ("How come you never talk about your day?" she said to him. "I lanced a possibly cancerous pustulous boil on a man's scrotum today," House said. "How was your day, honey?")

Now he was eager to put that all behind him.

His hand slid from her torso to her thighs.

"We can't," Cuddy said, slapping his hand away.

"Why not?" he said, leaning over and kissing the flat of her stomach.

"I can't!" Then she whispered, "I can't _do it_ with my mother in the house"

"We _did it_ last night," House said. He had positioned himself between her legs and was now kissing her inner thigh. "I don't remember any complaints."

"That's my point. You promised you'd be quiet and you weren't."

"You weren't exactly Marcel Marceau yourself, Cuddy."

"I know. Which is why we can't do it tonight."

"If I'm going to have to survive this ordeal without sex, I'm not sure I'll make it."

"I'm sorry House."

His head was completely under the covers now. He popped up.

"Seriously?" he said.

"Seriously," she said, sadly.

"But your mom obviously didn't hear us last night. If she did, believe me she would've said something. She complained about literally everything else."

Cuddy gave a frustrated sigh.

"I don't think I can relax," she said.

"Let me help you," he said, with a mischievous grin.

He pulled off her panties and began lightly flicking his tongue against her heat.

"Don't do that," she said, squirming a bit.

"Don't do that?" House said, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. "Or this?" He gave a more penetrating probe.

"Oh God," she said, leaning back, giving in. "I lied: Do that."

"Atta girl," he said.

She closed her eyes, as he continued lapping at her.

"Oh House, that feels so goooooood," she said, clenching the sheets with her hands.

Her back began to arch as he found the sweet spot.

"Mmmmm. . .Yesssss. . . Just like that . ."

"You're almost out of toilet paper in the guest bath," a woman's voice said.

Cuddy's legs slammed shut and House popped up so quickly from under the covers, he looked like a Jack in the Box.

"I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything!" Arlene said, laughing and shielding her eyes.

House groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Mom! It's almost midnight!" Cuddy said, trying to compose herself. "And there's plenty of toilet paper in the guest bath. Did you look under the sink?"

"Oh, under the sink. That _would_ be a good place to look. I'm such a dotty old woman."

"Dotty like a fox," House said under his breath.

"What?"

"I said, 'There might also be a box of Kleenex down there," House said, smiling beatifically.

"You kids are too good to me," Arlene said.

######

The next morning, House managed to get himself up in time for breakfast with the whole family.

"Look who decided to grace us with his presence!" Arlene trilled.

House sad down grumpily.

"Howse!" Rachel said.

"Hiya, kid," House said, managing a small smile.

Rachel went back to banging her spoon against her high chair and singing the theme to _Fraggle Rock_ to herself.

Cuddy wordlessly placed a strong mug of coffee (with sugar—she had picked some up on the way home) in front of him.

"Bless you," House said.

Arlene gave Cuddy the stinkeye.

"Doesn't he ever lift a hand around here?" she said.

"Oh, I lift my hands plenty," House said, with a smirk. Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"I don't need to hear about your disgusting sex lives," Arlene said. "I've already seen plenty."

"You said you didn't see anything!" House said.

"I lied. I also heard you the night before. You guys go at it like a couple of bunnies."

"Bunnies do it all the time!" Rachel chimed in

House and Arlene looked at her in horror. They had assumed she wasn't paying attention.

"Do what, honey?" Cuddy said, with a false smile, side-eyeing both of them.

"Hop!"  
####

Cuddy was stuck late in a board meeting and Rachel was already in bed, so House found himself alone in the house with Arlene.

He sat in his favorite chair, drinking scotch and playing a game on his phone, while Arlene sat at the dining room table, ostensibly playing solitaire but basically just staring at him.

"What?" he said finally.

"What are you always playing on that insufferable portable distraction device of yours?"

"You mean my iPhone, Arlene? All the kids under 60 have them."

"Yes, your iPhone."

"If you must know, I'm playing online poker."

"Why not put down the phone and play a real game of cards with me? Or are you too afraid to lose?"

She shuffled the deck several times, in a card-sharky sort of way.

"Game on," he said, putting the phone down.

"Bring the bottle of scotch," Arlene said.

####

Two hours later, Cuddy came home to the highly unexpected tableaux of her mother playing gin rummy with her boyfriend at the kitchen table, a nearly drained bottle of scotch between them.

"Wow. Isn't this. ..cozy?" Cuddy said, shocked.

"I knock," Arlene said, splaying her cards face up on the table triumphantly.

House scowled at her and set his cards down.

"Your mother cheats," he said to Cuddy, as she leaned down to kiss him hello.

"Your boyfriend is a sore loser," Arlene said.

"It's actually not losing when the other player _cheats_!" House said. "I can literally see a card poking out of your housecoat. . . .She also really needs to work on her sleight of hand."

"I don't know how that got there!" Arlene said, innocently. "Static cling, I guess."

She put the cards down on the table.

"Final tabulation. Arlene: 8 hands won. House: 3 hands won. So what do I win?"

"You already drank half a bottle of my $50 scotch. Isn't that enough?"

"So he's cheap, too," Arlene said.

Then she yawned.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight, lovebirds. Remember, whatever you do, I can hear _everything_."

"A marital aid you are not," House said. "Goodnight Arlene."

After Arlene padded away, Cuddy got on her tip toes and, grinning, gave House a long kiss.

"What was that for?" he said, even though he knew.

"You're the best," she said, hugging him.

####

The harmony, such as it was, between House and Arlene was short lived.

The next night, House was playing a game with Rachel that involved using House's cane as a golf club and hitting a nerf ball as hard as possible.

"Be careful! Something's going to break!" Arlene kept saying.

"It's a nerf ball. It's made of foam, not reinforced steel."

Of course, Arlene was right. It wasn't the ball that was a problem, it was the cane. Rachel took one adorably gusto-filled rip at the ball and the cane went flying out of her hands and knocked over a vase. It shattered instantly.

"Oops," House said.

Rachel began crying.

"I broked the jar! I broked the jar!" she wailed.

"It's a vase. And yeah, you sure did, shorty," House said, limping over to retrieve his cane.

Cuddy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"What's all the commotion out here?" she said. Rachel went running into her arms and pointed at the shattered vase, which House was trying, in vain, to reassemble.

"I did-ed it!" Rachel said.

Cuddy shot House an accusatory look.

"Something tells me you had help," she said.

"I knew this was going to happen," Arlene said. "He didn't heed my warnings. That's _warnings_. Plural."

"Your daughter has a loose grip," House said. Then, with a shard of pottery in his hands, he said: "I can reassemble this. It'll be more of an. . . abstract piece, though."

"That vase was a family heirloom, I'll have you know," Arlene said.

"No it wasn't. Don't be melodramatic," House said.

"Actually, it was," Cuddy said, wrinkling her nose.

"Shit," House said. "I'm sorry."

Cuddy went to the kitchen and retrieved a garbage bag and a vacuum cleaner.

"Sweetie, stay away from the mess," she said to Rachel. "You could cut yourself."

Then she bent over and began collecting the detritus herself.

House knelt down to help her, but she waved him off.

"I got this," she said.

"It's his mess! Why can't he clean it?" Arlene demanded.

"Because he has a disability, mom, in case you hadn't noticed."

"His disability seemed just fine five minutes ago, when he was using his cane as a weapon of domestic destruction."

"Your sympathy for the disabled is heartwarming, Arlene," House said.

"Don't you mean Sympathy for the Devil?" Arlene quipped.

"Did your mom just reference a Stones song?" House said to Cuddy.

"I was 29 when that song came out!" Arlene said.

"Damn you're old," House replied.

Sensing things were about to get tense, Cuddy excused herself to put Rachel to sleep. When she came back, Arlene picked right up again.

"Why do you let him get away with so much around here?" she said. "He doesn't act like your boyfriend. He acts like your second child!"

"Mom, just sit down and relax. I'll make you some tea as soon as I finish cleaning this."

"Why doesn't House make me some tea?" Arlene demanded.

"Mom, _chill,_" Cuddy said.

"I'm serious," Arlene said. She was on a roll now. "I've been staying with you for 5 days now and all I've seen House do is sleep in, sit on his ass, play video games, treat Rachel like a playmate, and paw at you like a teenager in heat. When are you going to force him to grow up or get out?"

"Mom, it's my life!" Cuddy said, getting annoyed. "I don't need your judgment right now."

"It's just…he's not a serious man, Lisa. He's not serious about himself, about you, about Rachel."

"You don't know what you're talking about," House snapped.

"This is between me and my daughter, House."

"I don't think so, Arlene. I think you put me right in the middle of it."

"Lisa knows we've been having this discussion long before you entered the picture. If she put half the effort into her personal life that she put into her career, she wouldn't be stuck with a loser like you. She would've been married years ago. Maybe even have a child of her own."

"First of all, keep your voice down!" Cuddy said. "And second of all, Rachel is my child!"

"I know she's your child, honey. But I mean, biological child."

"Biological mothers aren't all they're cracked up to be," House said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arlene replied.

"It means . . ."House looked around the room for a second. "It means that you're a meddlesome bitch!"

The silence that immediately followed his remark was House's first clue that he had crossed some sort of invisible line. The look on Cuddy's face was his second. She looked furious.

"House, apologize to my mother," Cuddy said, through gritted teeth.

"She should apologize to us!" House said, defiantly.

"House, I'm not going to ask you again," Cuddy said. Her voice had become unnervingly calm. "You are either going to apologize to my mother or get out of my house."

House looked at Cuddy, then Arlene. He felt his face getting red.

"Fine," he said, grabbing his motorcycle jacket. "I'm over this shit."

And he stormed out.

#####

House was at Sullivan's, on his second scotch, trying to figure out how long his banishment would need to last—did it necessitate a night at a hotel?—when someone sidled into the bar stool next to him.

"Martini, dry, with two olives," a female voice said.

He looked over.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he said.

"Looking for you," Arlene Cuddy said.

"Why aren't you home, basking in your victory?"

"What victory?" Arlene grumbled. "Lisa kicked me out."

"She _what_?"

"She told me I needed to find you and apologize before she let me back in the house. Can you believe that?"

"I thought she wanted _me t_o apologize," House said.

"She wants us both to apologize," Arlene said.

House looked into his glass, trying to suppress a smile.

"Huh," he said.

"Look at you," Arlene said, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You're practically bursting over the fact that Lisa defended you."

"Kicked me out, _then_ defended me."

"She loves you, God help her. And I know you love her, too."

"Yes," House said sincerely. "I do."

"So why not grow up a little and take on some responsibility in that house? You're not some teenager who's young, dumb, and full of cum anymore."

"You have no idea, Arlene," House muttered, staring into his drink.

"Then enlighten me."

"I've changed my whole life for this woman."

"Like how?"

House looked up at the bartender.

"Stan, how many times have I been to this bar in the last 13 months?"

"Including tonight?" Stan said.

"Sure."

"I dunno. Maybe 6."

"And what about before that?"

"To call you a regular would be an understatement."

House looked at Arlene in a "I rest my case" sort of way.

"So now you drink at her place, big deal," Arlene said.

House scratched his head.

"There are other things….things I can't explain."

"Like that fact that you used to be an enormous pill-popping junkie?"

House's eyes widened.

"Julia and I are close," Arlene reminded him. "So you're off drugs. Good for you. Do you want a medal?"

"I'm totally committed to your daughter. And to Rachel," House said.

"You don't even know what allergies Rachel has!" Arlene protested.

"She's allergic to penicillin. And poison ivy. Whole milk makes her a little gassy," House said.

"You told that woman. . ."

"She was getting on my nerves," House said.

"So you were just being rude!"

"Yes, I was being rude. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"House, how old are you?"

"51."

Arlene smirked at him.

"Rome better hurry the fuck up," she said.

House gulped.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Look, House. I do see that you're trying. And I'm actually kind of . . .fond of you, God help me. So fond that I wish you would try even harder. Do you understand?"

"Yes," House said, chastened.

"And I'm sorry that I called you a loser."

House stared at her.

"Did you just apologize to me?"

"Yes, amazingly enough, I did. I think I even surprised myself a little there."

"Well, I'm sorry I called you a bitch. That was uncalled for."

"But so very, very true," Arlene said, raising her glass.

"To bitches," House said. "The world needs more of them."

"Amen," Arlene said.

And they clinked.

#####

An hour later, there was a knock at Cuddy's door.

"Who is it?" she said, theatrically.

"It's your mother," Arlene said.

"And your boyfriend," House said.

Cuddy opened the door a crack, with the chain lock still hooked.

"You guys both knew the rules for coming back home," she said, squinting at them.

"I apologized," Arlene said.

"So did I," House said.

"I'll be damned," Cuddy said. She opened the door. "So can you seal this touching moment with a hug?"

"No chance," House and Arlene said, in unison.

"Worth a shot," Cuddy said, with a shrug.

The she smiled at them.

"I love you both very much. Let's all go to bed. And mom, you might want to think about wearing headphones tonight, if you know what I mean."

THE END


End file.
